Black women are often looked at by society as having daddy issues. More than half of us come from fatherless homes, or homes where daddy is usually a weekend fixture. That being said, it has been assumed more times than not that we are a lost cause; that because we didn't have our daddies in our everyday lives, that we are destined to continue that same cycle and make poor choices regarding men. Furthermore, in society's eyes, at least American society, our so-called daddy issues also predicate what kind of women we become...society says we are the gyrating, twerking, women that you see in music videos. We are the women who disregard the educated man and go for the hustler...all because of daddy issues. What society fails to notice and impart is that we don't necessarily need a daddy to make up our minds about what's best for us and our future. We don't need male influence, but when we do have it, it comes from other positive male figures.
Mine came mostly from my uncles: Terry, Steve, and Theo. It is not that my father was not there, but when I think of who had and still has considerable influence over me and the molding of my life, these are the men.
Uncle Terry and Uncle Theo are still among us. They are characters; funny,handsome, bright, and have each played a role in the shaping of their now 28 year old niece. Whether it was staying up all night with me in the fourth grade to study for a black history competition or simply sending cards to celebrate all of my accomplishments, they made sure that I knew that I was a gem; a blessed, young, black, woman, with endless possibilities that should never be compromised by foolishness.
To talk about Uncle Steve, is hard. I find that whenever I talk about him, I am starting backwards. In May of 1993, I was 7 years old, when I heard the earth shattering news that my uncle was taken from this world by someone who was child himself. Uncle Steve was only 22 and while my young mind was still developing, I felt the pain of someone who had known death many times over.
Standing in front of his casket, I was distraught. I could not understand why someone would want to take my uncle from me and my family. My little mind could not make sense. He was the uncle that I had the least amount of time with but made the most profound impact on my life. He was my babysitter, my confidant, my playmate, and my protector in addition to being my uncle. He was the man who taught me how to cross my legs like a lady, wipe my mouth daintily (which was maybe a product of television shows he watched :)), and made sure that I understood that I was precious. Uncle Steve was instrumental in helping me to develop my worth from a young age.
As a child, of course I would not be able to have in depth conversations with him about culture, religion, and politics but I always knew where he stood. As I got older, I was able to talk more to my mom and his friends more about his thoughts as young black man. I was saddened to learn that he wanted to go to college but did not have the opportunity; I was enlightened to know that though he didn't, he pushed many of his friends to go and supported them morally to succeed.
In talks with his friends and with my mom (his sister), I learned that Uncle Steve had a lot of pride in being an African-American, and that he was always striving to learn more about his people, where they came from, and how to help his people get ahead in the world. I knew that this was true because when my brothers and I were children, he did his best to instill in us positive images about our culture. He was also a member of the Nation of Islam around the time that he died.
I can recall once when I was playing with my Barbie dolls, that he had asked me when I was going to come to the Mosque to play with the Barbie's there. I had no idea with a Mosque was... and politely asked that he bring the Barbies home :)!
The lessons I learned from Uncle Steve were simple yet cherished lessons that I carry with me always: 1) behave as lady, 2) education is priority, 3) be proud of who you are and where you came from and 4) never settle for less because you are greater than that.
Looking back over the small yet precious time I spent with my uncle, I realize that daddy issues only persist if you let the literal definition of dad interfere with your growth. Don't get me wrong; there is nothing comparable to a father's love, but when you have had someone like Uncle Steve who is willing to be that role model/father figure...it's all good.
It has been 21 years since I last looked upon the my handsome uncle's face, 21 years since he last told me to have a seat when I called myself jumping up and down in a dress...21 years since I last looked upon his face for approval. However, I see his face even when I don't recognize it, hear his voice in my own, and know that he is there.
I hope that I am doing everything that he wished for me and that he is proud.
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